


give a little (get a lot)

by liesmyth



Series: Captive Prince Works [11]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, Impact Play, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Marking, Post-The Summer Palace, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/pseuds/liesmyth
Summary: “Are you going to apologise?”Laurent jutted his chin out. “I will,” he said. “If you make me.”
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Captive Prince Works [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547890
Comments: 25
Kudos: 265





	give a little (get a lot)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onekingdomonce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/gifts).



> Title from [Power & Control](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dM0ZXiokoiQ) by Marina and the Diamonds.

In the weeks after the Summer Palace, Damen began to adjust to the rest of his life. He was King now, and with it came a host of duties for which he’d prepared thoroughly but never seriously contemplated. There were all sorts of tasks to be carried out, a new role to accustom himself to, dealing with the consequences and the remnants of Kastor’s brief reign. And then there was Laurent; like the sun, the absence of him left Damen feeling cold, and his presence burned overwhelmingly.

Politically, the situation was still tense. The alliance was hard to stomach for the Veretians, who had never thought much of Akielos and still despised Damen for the death of Auguste. It was harder still for Akielos, which had to suffer through their King’s death, a treasonous plot supposed by the Regent of Vere, and the humiliation that their new King had suffered at enemy hands. It was hardest of all on Nikandros, who loved Damen sincerely since they had been boys together, had lost his home of Delpha with the new truce, and still refused to trust Laurent.

Nikandros would never admit it to his King, but Damen wondered at times if he might resent Laurent for the way he’d taken up space in Damen’s life, in his heart as much as his bed, changing him irrevocably. With previous lovers it had never been like this— they came and went, but Laurent had entrenched himself firmly at Damen’s side in the marble halls of Ios, presuming to speak for Damen to his household and his councillors. Nikandros hated it, and Laurent could tell.

The tension between them came to a point one grey afternoon after a gruelling meeting with the kyroi of Aegina and Keusus. Laurent hadn’t made himself particularly well-liked and Nikandros had challenged all of Laurent’s ideas at every turn, even the ones that held recognisable merit. It had been uncomfortable for all involved and at the end of it, Laurent coldly asked the Kyros of Ios to please stay behind. Nikandros had looked grim-faced like a man going to face the executor’s noose.

Then Laurent had proceeded to tear into him, mixing rebukes with outright insults, in that way he had when he wouldn’t just insult a man but would set out to destroy him. At least he’d waited until the room emptied to do it, sparing Nikandros the humiliation of other people witnessing this foreign princeling tearing into him and his own King letting him. In official matters, such as these, Damen was conscious of the weight of his words; Laurent was an ally before being Damen’s lover, and he was mostly in the right. But Laurent had also made his point, several times, and now was going on and on carried by vicious spite.

Damen’s hands twitched at the sides, his jaw clenched so tight it almost hurt. He felt angry.

“That’s _enough_ ,” he spat out, his voice booming, echoing slightly in the closed room. “Both of you. This is disgraceful.”

Two sets of eyes, shining with anger, turned to look at him. Then Nikandros bowed his head, his spine so straight it looked as though it might snap. “Exalted, if I may be dismissed.”

Damen waved his assent and watched him stride out of the room in long steps that betrayed his fury. When he turned to look back to Laurent he saw something there — satisfaction. Anger mounted inside of him like a poisonous cloud.

“Laurent.” His voice was low and terrible. “What the hell was that?”

Laurent, supremely flippant, went to sit down on the stuffed chair he’d used during the meeting. He crossed his ankle over his knee in a familiar sprawl. “Your Kyros has silly notions. I disabused him.”

“You didn’t need to — say all of that.”

“He is jealous of me. He hates that you care for me.” It was a soft boast, as if he couldn’t quite believe Damen truly did care, but he would use it regardless.

“You can’t do that, Laurent. Nikandros is my ally and my oldest friend.”

“Nikandros,” Laurent spat out. “has insulted my people to my face every day this week.”

Damen ignored him. “I won’t allow this, Laurent.”

“Won’t _allow_ it?”

His tone was careless. Damen wondered if he meant for him to back down. He walked closer to where Laurent sat, confronting him with his full height. Laurent leaned back against the back of his chair, a lazy smile spreading on his face.

“Perhaps,” he said. “You should teach me a lesson.”

He said it with his head thrown back to expose his pale throat, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. His cheeks were flushed, eyes gleaming. Damen found him beautiful, and insufferable, and manipulative. He disliked that, apparently, Laurent had initiated all of this to get sex.

“I plan to,” Damen said.

He turned and he walked out of the room.

In the evening he sought out Nikandros and listened to his grievances. Not for the first time nor the dozenth he weathered Nikandros saying that he’d made a bad choice, accusing him of being blinded by feelings. It was an improvement over Nikandros’s usual refrain of telling Damen that he was blinded by Laurent’s looks.

He sat next to Laurent at dinner and ignored him thoroughly, only speaking to Kyros Diokles who sat at his other side. That night he kept to his own rooms, connected to Laurent’s apartments through an adjourning door. He found himself fantasising about Laurent coming to him, and how Damen would refuse him if he came knocking at the door.

Then he thought of all Laurent would do to get Damen to forgive him. Laurent was always sweet after he believed he’d upset him, turning unusually demure. It was jarring, but not unpleasant— it reminded Damen of different times with different lovers and sparked a forbidden kind of desire inside of him. When Laurent got all giving, Damen liked to take. Laurent would walk into the room, and Damen would wait for Laurent to come to him. Damen would be on a chair; maybe Laurent would go to his knees and lay one cheek on his bare thigh, like a cat, and wait to be acknowledged. Or perhaps he would be at his standing desk. Laurent might go to his knees there, too, and push his chiton up. Laying on the bed Damen took himself in hand, thinking of it.

If Laurent were to come into the room now, while Damen was in bed, he would sit next to him and gently lean in to kiss him. Even angry, Damen could never refuse a kiss from Laurent. He’d wait for Damen to tell him what to do, as it happened when Damen was in a mood. Damen would tell him to get naked and prepare himself; angry, he would use coarse words. He would tell Laurent to make himself ready to be fucked. Damen’s eyes would follow him; Laurent’s pale skin would flush pink under the attention. He’d get on his hands and knees and Damen would skim one hand across his back, lightly, taking his time. He’d spread Laurent open, checking to see if he’d been thorough with preparation; Laurent liked the burn of being split open, and sometimes he’d rush it, so Damen might tell him to do it again. His cock would be hard and reddened, his balls dangling heavy between his legs. Damen would thumb at his hole, distractedly, until Laurent was squirming with want. At some point, he would beg.

Damen shuddered and came all over his hand. Laurent wasn’t there.

In the morning Laurent still hadn’t apologised, and he doubled down on his unpleasant behaviour. He was curt with those who displeased him and challenged two different Akielon nobles to duel who’d made mistrustful comments about Vere in the past. He put them on their backs in the dirt of the training yard one after the other, pretending he couldn’t see Damen staring at him. After, he went to the baths to rinse himself. Damen went after him.

The room was cavernous and filled with vapour, and held three circular pools with levels of benches carved along the sides, like an amphitheatre. He found Laurent sitting on a low bench on the opposite side of the pool, up to his chest in water. There was a small smile on his lips when he caught sight of Damen.

“You’re spreading dissent in my court.”

“Not much,” said Laurent, dismissive. “It was already there.” And then he asked, “Are you angry?”

It was clear what he wanted. Laurent was naked and wet; Damen had sent all the servants out. He felt his body beginning to respond.

“Are you going to apologise?”

Laurent jutted his chin out. “I will,” he said. “If you make me.”

“Make you.”

“Make me pay for it. I’ll be very contrite. I’ll weep and whimper and tell you how sorry I am. Beg you to let me make it up to you.” He didn’t sound contrite. He was speaking in that cold commanding voice that went straight to Damen’s cock. The water of the bath was clear, and Damen could see how hard he was.

“Pay for it,” Damen repeated. It still sounded too much like one of Laurent’s games, but in his mind he heard the echo of Laurent’s words, saying, _I will beg_. He instinctively took another step towards the pool, sandals sliding over the wet marble.

“Among the lower classes, it is custom to punish disobedience. For boys, especially. Young men and apprentices. By — hitting them. To enforce discipline.” Laurent’s voice was still cool, but his face was flaming. Damen’s mouth had gone dry.

“You want me to…” He knew what Laurent spoke of. It had been custom for slave owners and their keepers as well, to spank their charges to maintain discipline. Damen, whose slaves had all been exquisitely well trained, hadn’t practised it. But he knew some nobles who liked to strike their slaves in intimate settings, not as a punishment but as a reminder. Or a reward.

Damen pictured it, and his voice changed. “Do you think you deserve it?”

He watched Laurent shift slightly on the bench. “I think,” he said, “that it would do me good.” His lip twisted. “To you, as well.”

They were alone in the room. Damen took another step towards the edge of the circular pool. Laurent walked to meet him. Immersed in the pool, his face was level with Damen’s legs. “Let me,” he said. He began to unlace Damen’s sandals. Damen watched the fall of his wet hair over his forehead, his full lips. He wondered if Laurent would bite down on his lip when he struck him.

He made to unpin his chiton, but Laurent stopped him. “Sit here,” he said, placing both his hands on the highest ring of benches, where the water would reach up to just below Damen’s knees. Damen pictured Laurent, naked, squirming on his clothed lap.

“You’ve thought about it.”

“Haven’t you? I can be insufferable.”

“I didn’t,” Damen said in all truth. He’d never — Damen never thought of himself as someone who enjoyed mixing pain with bedsport, before Laurent. But he knew that from now on he would think about it, often, every time Laurent provoked him.

Damen sat down on the bench. “Come here,” he said. Laurent draped himself over his lap, dripping wet, resting his chest and face on the bench above the waterline. He was hard against Damen’s thigh.

Laurent’s skin was soft and pale, and Damen had always liked how it would bloom faint reds and purples when he sucked hungry marks into Laurent’s throat or left bruised imprints on the thin skin of his hips. He fondled the flesh of Laurent’s ass and thought back to his fantasy in the bedroom yesterday, about inspecting Laurent before he fucked him. He spread him open so he could trace lightly at his hole, look at him there. Laurent was squirming slightly at the attention, and the feeling of him shifting over his lap was making Damen’s cock hard. Damen pictured Laurent’s face blushing red at the feeling of being so exposed

“What are you _doing_ ,” Laurent said, urgent. “That’s not what I—”

“I thought you wanted me to make you pay. You don’t deserve to pick.” He felt Laurent shiver at that. “Stay still,” he said. “I have an idea.”

There were jars of oils in little alcoves carved over the benches, for massages and cleaning. Not for fucking; this wasn’t Vere. But it would do.

Damen grabbed one of the small jars and opened it quickly, then dripped the cold perfumed oil over Laurent’s hole.

“That’s not. _Damen._ ” Laurent sounded surprised, and he wiggled again.

Damen smacked him along the side of one cheek, just hard enough to make a noise.

“Be still,” he said. “You don’t have to speak now.”

Taking advantage of the position, Damen took his time fingering Laurent open, doing all the preparations Laurent usually avoided. He circled his rim and pushed the tip of one finger inside, then traced oiled paths down the dip of Laurent’s spine. When he put two fingers inside of him and curled them Laurent breathed out, slowly. If Laurent spoke or if he moved too much, or sometimes when he’d been quiet like he should, Damen hit him with his open palm on his ass and the back of his thighs. At one point, keeping him open, he smacked him lightly across his hole. Then he pushed a third finger into him and spread them a bit to test the stretch.

When he withdrew, he let his hand linger over the curve of Laurent’s ass, caressing the flesh. It had turned as pink as Damen thought Laurent’s face must be right now, pleasantly warm.

“You said you were going to beg.”

“You haven’t hit me nearly hard enough for that,” Laurent said.

Damen hit him again. Lightly. Laurent shifted unconsciously over his lap, rubbing his cock over the cloth of his chiton.

“Beg,” he said. “If you want me to hit you hard.”

“ _Oh_.” It was a strangled sound. Then, “I — you should hit me.”

As far as attempts went, that was pretty ridiculous. Damen laughed.

“Ask me nicely,” he said. “You said you deserved it. You asked me to teach you a lesson.”

“I did.” He could hear Laurent swallowing. And then, flat, he said, “Please.”

“That was better.” Damen caressed him once more, relishing in Laurent’s anticipation. Then he raised his arm up higher and struck him, hard. The sound resounded in the tall, empty room. Laurent let out a moan.

“Please,” he said again, more convincingly. Damen hit him again, watching a red imprint begin to form where his hand had struck.

“Please,” Laurent said, and this time it was sweet and needy, a shaking moan. Damen rewarded him with a smack on the same spot where he’d just hit, already warm and tender, and Laurent made a strangled sound low in his throat.

“I like that,” he said, very low. Then, a whisper, “Thank you.”

Damen thought his hands might shake; he felt a strange tightening in his chest, flaming arousal and a new rush of power. His cock twitched.

Damen spanked Laurent until he was breathing roughly, then fetched the oil jar again, dipped his hand inside. This time when he went back to opening him up he curled his fingers to hear Laurent groan when he found the right spot inside of him. He hit Laurent once more, hard, then circled gently his stretched out rim.

Laurent’s ass was red now, Damen realised he’d said that out loud. “You’re warm,” he said, marveled, “from how much I’ve hit you,” and Laurent squirmed and twisted around to look at him, eyes newly defiant.

“It’s just the hot water. You’ve hardly touched me.”

His voice was thick with tears, but steady. Damen held Laurent’s gaze and reached blindly to the side, reaching around— he’d meant to find a towel, but his fingers closed around something slippery and smooth. He struck again and Laurent whined, buckling so hard he almost fell off Damen’s lap. Damen looked at the object in his hand— a wooden comb, with a wide flat base and large teeth— then down to the reddened imprints on Laurent’s fine skin. He let the comb fall into the water and tugged Laurent’s head by the hair to settle him back in place, pressing a path with his lips up Laurent’s back.

“Again?” he whispered, and Laurent moaned.

Damen alternated between spanking and working Laurent open, with four fingers now. He wondered how Laurent’s face must look right now, if his eyes would be watering with tears. Laurent looked attractive when he cried, which happened sometimes when Damen made him come too many times in a row. _I’ll weep_ , he’d said. When Damen struck him particularly hard over the crease of his thigh, he heard Laurent sniffle.

Laurent was rocking in his lap, small little jerks of his hips. Damen traced the line of Laurent’s back with his oiled hand, reached all the way up to circle the back of his neck. He kissed him there, open-mouthed. Then squeezed lightly. “You’re taking this very well,” he said. “Have you learned your lesson yet?”

Laurent didn’t reply. He arched over Damen’s lap instead, pressing his ass up into the palm of Damen’s other hand, and Damen chuckled. He hit Laurent again right over the place where he’d just struck him, the spot that made him sob. Then he put his fingers back inside of him, pressing inside, while his other hand pressed over the redness on Laurent’s ass. “Come for me,” he said, and Laurent did.

Damen felt him clench around his fingers. Laurent’s orgasm was loud, which rarely happened, he arched even more over Damen’s lap and his leg jerked so that his foot splashed into the water. Damen kept his fingers inside as Laurent rode out the aftershocks, and then he spanked him again.

Laurent made a noise. Then he said weakly, “Are you going to put your entire hand inside of me?”

Damen was intrigued. They’d never done that — he’d never even considered it. But it would take time now, and effort. “Not now,” he said. And then, “You should thank me for what you already got.”

“Thank you,” Laurent said. And then, “Hit me again. Harder.” And then, “Please.”

The palm of Damen’s hand was hot, smarting with the strength of the impacts. He hit Laurent twice more, then stroked his hand between his cheeks over the slick rim of Laurent’s hole, and felt him shiver.

“Turn around,” he said. “Let me look at you.”

Slowly, Laurent raised his head. Because of the curve of the pool and the width of the bench at one point he almost slipped down into the water, and Damen grasped his hip to hold his balance. When he saw his face, Damen’s cock twitched under his damp chiton. His lips were bitten red, his face flushed and tear-streaked. His eyes were dark with want.

“Come here.”

Laurent sat up on his knees on the bench, wincing as he shifted. He moved swiftly, with that pliant manner he had when he was feeling contrite or well-fucked, like Damen had fantasised about in his bedroom. He held out one hand and Laurent leaned into it, letting Damen grasp the hair at the back of his neck and kiss the salt of the tears from his cheeks.

With his other hand he found Laurent’s ass, enjoying the way Laurent trembled against him at the touch, the heat of the skin and the pleasant sensation of the oil. He dug his fingertips into the skin and Laurent let out a strangled sob.

“ _Oh_ ,” Laurent said. His voice was very small. “Will you fuck me now?”

Damen liked the way it was phrased, not really asking, as if it were up to Damen only to decide.

“I will.” He said, and enjoyed the way Laurent shivered. “Sit up on my lap.” Laurent winced when he did. Damen pushed back the wet cloth of his chiton. His cock was dark and leaking.

“You said…” He caressed Laurent’s thigh with his thumb, slowly. “You’d beg me to let you make it up to me.”

Laurent’s fingers dug into the back of Damen’s shoulders, pressing their bodies close together. He was rocking on Damen’s lap, almost mindlessly, and Damen’s breathing turned rough with anticipation.

“I'm sorry.”

“You’re not,” he said, just to see what Laurent would do. Laurent looked away. Damen laughed.

“I am sorry I upset you,” Laurent amended. “Fuck me.” He leaned in to whisper against Damen’s lips. “I want you to come inside me.” His voice had regained some of his usual edge, so Damen’s hand found Laurent’s smarting ass again and he pressed there. As a reminder.

“Please,” Laurent said, again, and it sounded genuine enough that Damen kissed him again, and placed his hand on Laurent’s hips.

“Come on,” he said, and then he leaned back to enjoy the sight of Laurent impaling himself on his cock and the face he made when it went inside of him, and when the skin of his thighs and ass brushed against Damen’s thighs. He stroked Laurent cheek with the hand he’d used to spank him. His palm hurt and the skin was still warm. Laurent shivered a bit as he leaned into it, exposing the curve of his neck for Damen to kiss.

“I want you to do it fast.” It was the way Laurent usually urged him to do it. Damen wondered if he would like it as much, now, with his thighs aching. If he would like it more. The twinges of pain seemed to make Laurent clench harder around him and Damen enjoyed the tightness, and he enjoyed the faces Laurent made at the contact, his ragged little breaths.

He came inside Laurent with a long groan, shuddering. Then he lifted him off his lap slowly, for Laurent to stand into the water again, on shaky legs. Damen followed him there, washed himself and Laurent with herb-scented soap and leaned in to kiss Laurent on the mouth as he did his front.

Then, “Turn around,” he said, and Laurent hurried to follow. He mouthed along the back of Laurent’s neck as he pressed his hands all over his body.

“This is going to bruise,” he said, and Laurent shivered as he mumbled his agreement.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll feel it. It’ll remind me to be good.”

That sent a flash of hot want down Damen’s spent body. But there was annoyance there also, that Laurent would make this into a game, take advantage of a charged situation to get Damen to give him something he wanted when he would have given him regardless.

“You’re thinking,” Laurent said. Damen’s hand had gone up to circle the base of his neck, and Laurent leaned into it so that his next words sounded raspy and breathless. “You’re wrong.” Damen felt him swallow against his hand.

“Am I?”

“This was not my only reason for,” Laurent paused. “Provoking your followers. They are blind and narrow-minded.”

“Laurent.”

“You have me.” Laurent turned around in his arms, looking up at him with intent eyes. “I’m on your side. Isn’t that enough?”

“Laurent,” Damen said again, in a low whisper.

Laurent’s hand found his nape, tugging his head down. He pressed their bodies close together. “Trust me.”

And, despite all, Damen did.


End file.
